Alfred Eisenstaedt was a lover of photography,
of light, and of life. The first embraced the next two and allowed him
to share his loves with millions of people. He learned photography initially
by doing it; his sense of light came from his visual study of old master
paintings, especially Rembrandt; as for love of life, that came from the
heart quite naturally.

In this issue, we explore the many aspects
of Eisenstaedt's multifaceted photography. Ranging from the iconic Times
Square kiss on VJ Day, to the photographs of his beloved Martha's Vineyard,
this selection of images from the thousands possible, respectfully approaches
a photographer of truly great talent.

Born in Dirschau, West Prussia, in 1898,
his family moved to Berlin in 1906. He was drafted into the army at age
17. Wounded in the Great War, he went home to find some way to make money
during the depression. He sold belts and buttons for a wholesaler, saving
a portion of his earnings to buy photographic equipment.

His initial break came in 1927 when he
made a photograph of a woman playing tennis. He was excited just to get
a result, but his life direction really took shape with three other related
events. First, a friend suggested that he enlarge the photograph and crop
it to make a more powerful arrangement. The photographer is quoted in EISENSTAEDT
ON EISENSTAEDT(1985): "When I saw that one could enlarge and eliminate
unnecessary details, the photo bug bit me and I saw enormous possibilities."

Secondly, the editor of DER WELT SPIEGEL
paid for the tennis player photo and published it in the magazine. Eisenstaedt
writes, "Goodness, you get paid for pictures."

Thirdly, when he returned to the editor
with a second photograph, which was also chosen for the magazine, the editor
took time to tell the young photographer, "If you want to succeed in photography
you should look at the work of Dr. Erich Salomon."

Salomon used an Ermanox to make his groundbreaking
images of politicians. So, Eisie bought an Ermanox. Erich Salomon was quite
famous for photography. A contemporary TIME magazine described his work
in much the same way as Eisenstaedt's photographs would later be praised:
the photographs are "the art of presenting the psychologically important
and interesting moment in a manner so striking the observer can comprehend
the situation at a glance. The photo becomes a camera anecdote."

The first "Ermanox job" was to photograph
a meeting of the Salvation Army. Eisenstaedt describes the use of the camera
on another job: "You approach with camera and tripod, ask permission to
photograph, and set up. First you must focus through the camera's ground-glass
back, using a small pocket magnifier. Then, put in the metal plate holder
with its glass plate, and remove the slide. Next you have to watch very
closely. Replace the slide, remove the plate and holder. One shot. In looking
back, I'm amazed we were able to get the candid results we did." (THE EYE
OF EISENSTAEDT, 1969)

In 1932 he purchased his first Leica, a
camera that used 35mm movie film. Now, he was not dependent on one glass
plate and plenty of time--rolled film freed him to continue seeing and
working for longer periods. Also in the 1930s, Eisenstaedt watched the
steady rise of Hitler and the Nazis; he decided it was time to leave.

Arriving in New York, in 1935, he was soon
showing his portfolio to Henry Luce, of TIME magazine fame. By 1936, he
was one of four photographers enlisted to work on a new publication. LIFE
publisher Henry Luce is quoted in EISENSTAEDT: REMEMBRANCES (1990), "My
confidence in LIFE, in our actual ability to do a good job of pictorial
journalism, began when Alfred Eisenstaedt came back from his first prepublication
assignment."

To America, the photographer brought European
politeness, charm, art sensibilities, and his own work ethic, which he
passed along to many young photographers. Eisie wrote that as "a photojournalist,
you must not be conceited or choosy about your assignments. You learn something
from every picture you take. The ideal attitude of a photojournalist is
typified for me by my LIFE magazine colleague, Margaret Bourke-White. At
the peak of her distinguished career, she was as willing and eager as any
beginner on a first assignment. If you ever lose this kind of interest
and enthusiasm, you might as well say good-by to photography." (THE EYE
OF EISENSTAEDT, 1969)

Eisie preferred using natural light and
stayed away from all harshness in his compositions. When working with people--his
primary subject--he put sitters at ease before he ever used the camera.
He liked to use a tripod so he could stand beside the camera and continue
the conversation while watching for the right moment.

The elegance of his compositions can be
seen from his earliest work. In "La Scala, Milan," the curve of the ornate
balconies come toward the viewer. The only face that can be clearly seen
is that of a young woman whose hair circles her head and whose arm rests
in a languid curve on the pillowed rail.

In the justly famous "V.J. Day at Times
Square, New York City, August 15, 1945," the sailor pulls the woman up
toward him, thus arching her back. Her light-stockinged leg completes the
semicircle. The sailor's back is arched down over her, creating part of
another circle. The photograph is black and white, and these two people
represent that strong contrast. Other people are smiling in the far background
and the straight gray buildings frame the encircling kiss.

The portraits of Sophia Loren have a wonderful
spark of mischievousness or, as in the more formal color portraits, a dignity
and love that is brought to the picture by both sitter and photographer.
As Eisie remarked, "I am always surrounded by her pictures."

Laughing along with Eisie is easy in the
series of pictures he made of himself dressed up as Veronica Lake, or Napoleon.
This was a man who gave himself over to the moment, chortling all the way.

In a different type of work the harmony
remains. Eisenstaedt's gentle color photographs of leaves within a landscape
create quiet swirling patterns on the ground. The work on Martha's Vineyard
also displays the possibilities of Eisie's work. One is taken into the
sky and spaces of great beauty.

This was a man who loved people--celebrities,
beggars, children, everyone. His photographs are not the exposés
of the 1990s. He waited patiently for the right moment. He could also let
his innate photographic nature take precedence over his intellect in some
of his greatest photographs. He let go. But, he was extremely serious about
his work and the obligations of a photojournalist.

Like his photograph of the waiter flying
across the ice in St. Moritz, Alfred Eisenstaedt was in control of his
medium, everything had its own balance and graceful presence. We are fortunate
to have lived with this great teacher and humanitarian. His images continue
to contribute both insights and great pleasure to the world.